


April 1st - Sparring

by Snowmane



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: April Fools' Day, Fun, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowmane/pseuds/Snowmane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since they set camp somewhere in the Brecilian Forest the Warden's group is missing their two knife-eared members - but while Zevran vanished equipped as if he wants to face the Archdemon himself, Mahariel left even her armour behind. Alistair is wary and together with Leliana he tries to find at least the latter one in one piece.<br/>General sillyness, a shocked Alistair, Zevran being... well, Zevran and not too much sense in here - but hey, it's April the 1st! Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	April 1st - Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> Because my April the 1st lacked any kind of fun and pranks I decided to write a little something. Inspired by the romance between Alistair and Leliana as implied in "DA: The Darkspawn Chronicles" and the fact I switched my Warden from being an archer to two-weapon fighting in the middle of the game during my first playthrough. She must have learned it somewhere, yes?

“Are you sure this is right, Leliana?” he shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot as the rogue scanned the ground, looking for traces.  
“As far as I remember, you were the one who suggested this.” There was laughter in her voice and together with her accent it sounded as if she was half speaking, half singing every word. It made his throat tighten and he quickly looked away before she could catch him staring.  
“Well, they’re gone since two hours now and it’s getting dark. It might be dangerous.”  
“Dangerous to whom, dear Alistair? She’s a Dalish. This woman is probably able to walk through these woods blindfolded and unarmed - and will have a little chat with the wolves instead of having to fight them.”  
“You, my Lady, have a rather idealistic idea of the forest! And I am less concerned about its inhabitants than her choice of company.”  
Now the bard laughed openly, her head tilted back and a wide smile on her face. The sound was wonderful, even if she was mocking him. “You still don’t trust Zevran?”  
“He-tried-to-kill-us!” The Warden shook his head. “Am I the only one who hasn’t forgotten this tiny little detail?”  
She did not answer, only kept chuckling while following the small trail she’d just found again.

Together they silently ventured deeper into the forest, the bard hopping gracefully over thick roots and ducking under low branches while Alistair tried his best not to break through the shrubs like an angry golem. Or Shale, to be more specific.  
Their leader had vanished shortly after they decided to stay at a small clearing for the night. He had been worried, but Morrigan brushed him off. Calmer and less acid Wynne had guessed that the Dalish simply wanted some time for herself, now that they were so close to her old homelands. He had accepted that and went to help Sten with dinner.  
One and a half hour later he was stirring his signature lamb stew and while the rest of the party one by one came to sit and eat by the fire they realized that Zevran was missing, too. Not that he bothered much; the elf would just have complained about Fereldan cooking again. But while helping Oghren to mend some broken pieces of armour afterwards they found that the elf’s weapons were gone as well. A dagger he wouldn’t have minded, after all they were in the middle of a wilderness and Alistair himself went for his morning routine with a weapon on his back. But the Antivan did not come back and he did not take one blade, but his whole mishmash of knives, daggers and everything else that was sharp and pointy at one end - together with his armour, some food and a water bottle as a quick check with Bodahn showed him. The Warden’s armour, badly damaged since their last fight, was still lying in an orderly stack beside her tent, together with her bow and quiver. Their leader had left completely unarmed, Zevran equipped as if he wanted to storm the Black City itself.  
This had been enough to set Alistair off and only Leliana seemed to understand his concerns and offered to come along. Well, at least he had thought so, now she seemed to enjoy mocking him more than actually searching for the two missing elves.  
The sun was setting quickly now and with that the forest started to come alive. The human heard a wolf howling in the distance, the call was soon answered from several other directions. He swallowed and gripped his sword tighter. Maybe the Dalish was able to have a chat with these beasts, he certainly wasn’t. And there were many tales of worse monsters stalking the ancient woods. Spirits, walking trees, nameless monsters that would rip travellers apart and devour them completely never to be seen again…  
His trail of thoughts broke off as they came around a corner and his ears caught a familiar voice between the wood’s murmurs. He had to suppress an “I told you so” as their leader’s angry Dalish cursing was stopped by Zevran’s laughter and the sound of something – or someone – falling to the ground.  
Alistair did not wait any longer but pushed past the Orlesian to aid his sister-in-arms. The pieces of conversation he could pick up only made him run faster.

“You could just give up, yes?”  
“Never. Dread Wolf take you, I am not –“her voice broke off with a muffled groan.  
“You had it coming, Warden.”  
“Ouch! By the Ancestors, Zevran, don’t you dare do that again!”  
He was just about to jump out of the bushes full speed as he caught a glimpse of the ongoing battle and only barely managed to stop and hide behind the next tree instead. Leliana followed close by, he gripped her arm and held her back.  
“What in the name of Andraste –“the bard stared at him with bewildered eyes, but he only managed to shake his head, his face turning from red to crimson.  
Brows furrowed the bard peeked around the tree, the suppressed giggle verified what he had seen a second before: Zevran unclothed besides his trousers, his tattooed back and feet bare in the half-light of the forest clearing, the hands of their leader digging into his shoulders, pale fingers on copper skin. And the Dalish herself… well, pinned under him. Alistair hid his face in his hands. He would never, ever forget the picture. Maker, he was damned. And as loud as he had been they would know someone-  
“Who’s there?” The female elf’s voice was somehow flat; she was struggling to breath now. Alistair turned spontaneously back to praying, hoping the Maker would grant him his wish and open a hole in the ground for him to hide in.  
“Zevran, stop it.” He heard the woman groan, but the other elf just laughed in response – and to his surprise Leliana joined his giggling, stepping into the clearing and pulling him along.  
He held his eyes fixed on his own shoes, ready to make a run for it. This was nothing he wanted to see of the other Warden, even if Leliana obviously was not above of this voyeurism.  
The giggling only grew louder. “Alistair, you can look up. They are not… you know.” Leliana was shaking of laughter, especially after a loud cry from down where the Warden was. He dared to look up and cast a quick glance on the direction of the sound – their leader was lying on the ground in Zevran’s light leather armour, two knifes stuck in the soft moss above her head and just out of reach. The assassin was holding another blade at her throat but pulled away now, rolling to his side and letting the sour-looking Dalish wriggle out of his grasp.  
She was sitting up then, still panting and sweating from the struggle to win the… sparring. They had just been sparring. Two blades, close ranged fighting. Her weak point, as she normally had to get help when somebody managed to avoid her arrows and came too close. He thought he couldn’t turn any redder, but Alistair managed to do just that while Leliana helped the other woman to her feet.  
“He’s not been easy on you, huh? Zevran, we need our leader in one piece!” The woman pointed a finger at the other elf, friendly mocking the assassin.  
“It was her idea. You know me, I’m always happy to help, my dearest bard.” Zevran lay back, getting some rest as well while stretching out on the quickly cooling forest ground. Beside him the Dalish bound her hair back again and picked up the daggers.  
“What were you two doing here, anyways?” she asked.  
“We went looking for you. You’ve been gone since more than two hours now” the redhead replied, the smooth smile still in place.  
“It’s been this long? I’m sorry to have worried you so much. But you should have known I’m fine in the Brecilian on my own.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… ahh, well.” Alistair cleared his throat and tried not to look too flustered. He felt incredibly stupid now. Hopefully Morrigan would not hear of this. Maker, please…  
“No worries, my dear friend.” Zevran’s grin bode ill. He held up his hand for the female Warden to help him to his feet only to pull her down to the ground instead. With a mischievous sparkle in his eyes he quickly disarmed her again, leaving the Dalish to struggle against his grasp once more.  
“Still so much to learn, my dear. I told you to work on your stance, didn’t I?” The woman’s answer was a low grunt, but even with armour she was not able to break free of the Crow.  
“But tell me, Alistair”, he continued, amber eyes fixing on the other Warden and seemingly untroubled by the Dalish’s elbow between his rips, “what kind of exercise did you think I was bestowing on our lovely leader, huh?”  
Alistair fled the clearing as quickly as he could, the melodic laughter of Leliana and Zevran following him as well as the Dalish’s exasperated cry: “He thought we did WHAT?!”  
Maker, damn these rogues.


End file.
